Dating at the Speed of Light
by pamz
Summary: AU mash up of the episodes "Pilot" (1x01) and "Sun of a Gun" (2x14). Walter meets a woman and her son at a speed dating event who change his life forever.


**Author's note:** This story could also be called "What I Did On Yet Another Day Off From School Because Of Bad Weather." It hopped into my brain this morning and I've been working on it all day long. It's basically a mash up of "Pilot" and "Sun of a Gun" that I didn't know I needed to write. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Scorpion fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights of K/O Paper Products, Blackjack Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment, SB Films, CBS Television Studios, or anyone else.

 **DATING AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT**

He didn't want to be here. The noise, the garish lighting, the people. . . Such environments overstimulated his senses, and as a defense mechanism, he would shut down, retreating into the safe, quiet recesses of his brain.

"Walter, wipe the scowl off your face and at least look like you're not studying a pile of mouse turds."

Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I told you I don't want to be here, Toby," he stated impatiently. "This whole scenario, it's preposterous. No one can get to know someone in five minutes."

"No, but you can get an inkling of whether or not you'd like to get to know someone better or not. First impressions. It's a real thing, 197," said the behaviorist. "Plus you haven't been out with a woman since you broke up with Janice over a year ago."

"I've been busy." Which was somewhat of an understatement. His company, Scorpion, had been on the verge of bankruptcy; he and his genius friends in danger of scattering to jobs that undervalued their brain power and made them miserable. The unwelcome yet timely arrival of Cabe Gallo, and an offer to be contractors for the Department of Homeland Security, had been enough for him to put aside any personal issues he'd had with his former mentor.

Not only were they using their considerable intellect to solve complicated cases nobody else could figure out, they had been given a sense of purpose. They each had something special to offer, but in his mind, they were still missing a piece of the puzzle. Butting heads with authority was becoming tiresome, but none of them were equipped with the necessary filters to deal with what they called 'normals'. People with normal IQs and emotions, people who were able to navigate the real world and its incomprehensible obstacles.

"I don't want to be here either," said Sylvester. He was the team's human calculator. Numbers, statistics, probabilities, child's play to the young genius. Human interaction, however, he was little better than Walter was himself.

The fourth member of their group, Cabe, stuck out like a sore thumb, and not because he was the only man there wearing a suit and tie. "This has to be the worst idea you've ever come up with, Doc. Half these girls are just that, girls. I'm old enough to be their father."

"Grandfather in some cases," muttered Sly, who cringed when the federal agent gave him a withering stare.

"Shut up, you big whiners." Toby waved his hand across the restaurant. "Look at all these women. Desperate women. They'd have to be to sign up for an event like this."

"If they're desperate," Sylvester asked, "what does that make us?" Walter thought the younger man had a valid point.

"Geniuses."

"Okay, everyone. Welcome to speed dating," a perky blonde announced after ringing a little bell. "Everyone have their preassigned number? Good. Ladies, take your seat. Tonight the men will be coming to you."

Her statement drew laughter from much of the crowd, although Walter didn't see any humor in what she'd said. Drawing several deep breaths, he prepared himself for what would going to be yet another disastrous attempt to relate to members of the opposite sex. One where he would be in equal parts, anxious, bored, humiliated, and rejected.

Let the torture begin.

* * *

She didn't want to be here. She was tired after pulling a double shift at the diner. Her feet and wrists hurt, she felt as attractive as a slug in her waitress uniform, and to top it all off, her evening babysitter had canceled on her. Which was just as well because she really didn't have enough money to pay her anyway. So she had to bring along her ten year old son.

She was only doing this as a favor to her friend, Linda. It had been the perky blonde's idea to become a speed dating coordinator, with the ulterior motive of finding herself a husband. She was a year older than Paige and she worried she was going to be an old maid (Paige had rolled her eyes, did people even call unmarried women that anymore?), and would gradually become a crazy cat lady. She already had two.

"Paige!" Linda came rushing up to her. "I'm so glad you. . . Oh, hi, Ralph." She rose up on her toes and whispered loudly, "What happened? I thought you had a sitter?"

"She couldn't make it. It will be all right." Paige chuckled humorlessly. "I'll be able to weed out all the men who cut and run when they find out I have a kid now rather than later."

Men like her dick of an ex-boyfriend who had abandoned her and their son when Ralph had been two. Looking back, she was surprised Drew had stuck it out as long as he had. Almost every guy she'd dated since had promptly disappeared once they learned she was a single mother. To be fair, here had been a few who had asked her out a second time. A couple of them she had nothing in common with and one guy who had creeped her out by being a little too excited by the fact she had a child.

She'd become much more cautious after that. As a result she hadn't been out in over a year. She kept telling herself she was happier that way. Ruffling her son's hair, she smiled down at him. He didn't return the gesture.

Linda looked uncomfortable, like she usually did when she was around Ralph. "Well, at least he's quiet." She sighed. "Thanks for coming anyway. One woman short would have thrown everything out of whack."

She then glanced at the clock behind the bar. "Oh, I should get started. Good luck, Paige. Hope you find Mr Right." The blonde flashed Paige a thumb's up before going to the middle of the room.

Fat chance of that. She'd met too many Mr Wrongs to believe the right man for her even existed.

"Okay, everyone. Welcome to speed dating," her friend announced after ringing her little gold bell. "Everyone have their preassigned number? Good. Ladies, take a seat. Tonight the men will be coming to you."

Her statement drew laughter from much of the crowd. Paige didn't join in, however. Instead she led Ralph over to the nearest empty booth, where he immediately started rearranging the various packets and shakers.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to clear her mind of its negative thoughts and plastered what she hoped was an attractive smile on her face (and not a grimace of despair).

Let the torture begin.

* * *

What a horrendous waste of time.

The first woman had stared at him blankly as he'd asked her how to find the heaviest of eight same sized balls, using a balance and only two weighings. The second had taken exception to his compliment her features were rodentiform, thinking he meant she looked like a rat when he'd meant she looked like a rabbit.

The third had tried to impress him with speaking with various accents, none of them very convincing and all of them grating on his nerves. He'd left before his time was up, unable to endure any more.

The fourth woman frightened him, and he didn't scare easily. She'd started talking about dresses and shoes and colors and what kind of flowers did he prefer. And when he asked her why she wanted to know, she told him she was taking mental notes in case they got married. She, too, had been deserted before the five minutes were up.

Prepared for another round of tedium, annoyance, or worse yet, fear, Walter approached a fifth woman. She appeared to be attractive, her features symmetrically pleasing, her eyes intelligent despite the tiredness indicated by the dark circles underneath them. Her honey colored hair brushed her shoulders. She glanced up at him and a weary smile touched her lips.

Flexing the now sore muscles in his face, he moved to sit down when he noticed the boy sitting beside her. His amazement a woman would bring a child with her to this speed dating circus dissipated as he focused on what the youngster was doing.

He was nervously twitching a pair of salt and pepper shakers, one in each hand. His eyes were vacant and he appeared to be lost in his own little world. A quick glimpse of the packets of sugar and creamer and jam arranged on the table in front of surprised Walter when he realized what they meant. Slipping into the booth, he immediately moved one of the sugars closest to him what he calculated was a space ahead. The boy watched him, then tentatively moving another packet forward.

With his first genuine grin of the evening, Walter engaged the youngster in a swift exchange of pieces, flowing effortlessly until the boy tried to make an illegal move.

"Uh, uh," he said, sliding the jam packet back to its original spot. The kid stared up at him and Walter saw a flicker of recognition in the bright green eyes. The boy changed his move, putting Walter into check.

"Uh, excuse me." The woman's voice intruded into his head as he was plotting his strategy.

He turned his attention to her. She appeared alarmed, glancing at the boy with what he recognized as panic.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she put her arm around the kid's shoulders. Walter knew the youngster was going to flinch at the protective gesture before he did just that.

He got a good look at her fingernails, which were inexpertly painted a dark purple. "You have anemia," he declared before adding, "It turns your fingernails pitted. That's why your polish looks streaky. You need more iron."

The woman's mouth dropped open then closed. Walter winced, realizing his recitation of facts might not be the most polite way to start a conversation with a beautiful woman. Because she was beautiful, becoming more so when she tried to shield the child, who had to be her son, from a virtual stranger's odd behavior.

"Okay," she said, relaxing as she laughed. "I don't recall asking, Einstein."

"Einstein had an IQ of 160. Mine's 197."

Oh, great, now she probably thought he was an egomaniac. Which he was, according to Toby anyway. Again, not the most ideal way to impress a woman.

"Who the hell are you to tell me my polish looks cheap?" she asked, confirming his opinion. "My polish looks streaky because Ralph does it." The boy didn't look up at the mention of his name, a fact Walter filed away in his brain. "He loves to paint, and don't tell me he needs help, either. I know he's challenged."

Walter glanced over the makeshift chess game, taking a few moments before moving his queen out of check. Ralph moved his pepper shaker, putting Walter into checkmate. The boy's eyes darted up to meet his, and Walter felt something between them click.

"Challenged, huh? Do you know what we were doing?" She shook her head, biting her lip. "We were playing chess. I'm not a grand master, but I'm close. He just beat me." Walter registered her astonishment, wondering if she would connect the dots.

To help her out, he added, "And he doesn't like to paint your nails. He wants to hold your hand, but he can't process physical contact." When she continued to stare wordlessly at him, he said, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your son is a genius."

* * *

What a horrendous waste of time.

The first man couldn't leave fast enough when the five minutes were up. He kept sliding glances at Ralph, appearing terrified he would be forced to take on responsibility for the young boy just by talking to her. The second guy was a little less obvious, but still took off like a shot when Linda's little tinkling bell rang.

The third 'Mr Right' tried too hard, asking her son if he enjoyed things like sports and school and animals, which Ralph had ignored, instead fidgeting with the condiments he'd set up all over the table. The man had asked her what the hell was wrong with the kid, causing Paige to tell him to leave as tears filled her eyes.

She knew her son wasn't normal. Teachers and specialists had been informing her of that fact since he was in preschool. He was antisocial, uncooperative, had trouble with his fine motor skills, and only passed from grade to grade by the skin of his teeth. He'd been tested for various learning disorders, nothing had been conclusive. She spent as much time with him as she could, but working two jobs and double shifts just to keep a roof over their heads made that difficult.

Her fourth speed date had seen the child sitting next to her and had spun away, not even having the decency to tell her thanks but no thanks. She was wondering if she should call the night a bust and leave, when the bell rang again and a fifth man approached her.

He was tall, at least six feet. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes were also dark, she couldn't tell the exact color in the low light. A scar bisected his lips and continued onto the left side of his chin, which also had a cute dimple in it. And, she noted with a bit of surprise, he wore his watch on his right wrist, just like she did. She speculated if he, too, was left handed. She'd never dated a left handed man before.

He was staring at her, no doubt assessing her as she had doing to him. He had been about to join her when she noticed his hesitation as he saw Ralph seated beside her. His eyes narrowed as he watched as her son fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, then scanned the packets scattered on the table.

Another loser, she sighed, frightened off by a obviously desperate single mother and her obviously abnormal child. So she was shocked to her shoes when he suddenly slid into the booth, and moving one of the sugar packets in front of Ralph. Her son timidly pushed another packet forward.

The man grinned then, and she noticed how handsome he was. She didn't know if that was why she didn't ask him what the hell he was doing as she watched the rapid back and forth exchange of pieces he and Ralph engaged in.

Then her son made a move, and the man blocked it. "Uh, uh," he scolded, placing the jam back where it had been. Ralph stared up at the stranger before picking up the same packet and placing it somewhere else.

Paige couldn't believe what she was seeing, her son, interacting with a man he'd never met before, and actually meeting his gaze. He never did that with anyone. She could barely get him to look at her.

"Uh, excuse me," she said as the flurry of activity had ceased. The man, God, she didn't even know his name, turned to look at her. "What are you doing?" she asked as she put her arm around Ralph's shoulders, grimacing slightly as she felt her son cringe away from her touch.

Instead of answering her question, the man insulted both her health and her nail polish, informing her she must have anemia, which she did, and needed more iron, which she couldn't afford. She felt her mouth drop open at his rudeness, but closed it quickly, not wanting to give the satisfaction of knowing he unnerved her. In more ways than one.

"Okay," she replied, laughing as she tried to appear unaffected by his words. "I don't recall asking, Einstein."

"Einstein had an IQ of 160. Mine's 197."

What kind of an asshole went around bragging about his IQ? Well, no one she had ever met before, most bragged about their penis size or their sexual prowess. This guy was definitely different.

Oh, crap, she couldn't be interested in him, could she? No, she couldn't. He was a jerk. A cute jerk, but a jerk nonetheless.

"Who the hell are you to tell me my polish looks cheap?" she practically yelled at him. "My polish looks streaky because Ralph does it." Mr 197 IQ glanced at her son for a moment before return his gaze to her. "He loves to paint, and don't tell me he needs help, either. I know he's challenged."

The man didn't say anything but he didn't look upset as he turned his attention back to whatever the hell game he and Ralph had been playing, staring for a moment before moving a creamer packet. Ralph moved his pepper shaker, and the man smiled. Her son looked up at him again, and in that instant, Paige knew a bond had been forged between the two of them.

"Challenged huh?" The man glanced over at her. "Do you know what we were doing?" She shook her head, her teeth digging into her lip. She had no idea what had just happened, except that it was something powerful and possibly life changing.

"We were playing chess. I'm not a grand master, but I'm close. He just beat me."

Paige's eyes widened. A grand master? Like, what was his name? Bobby Fischer? She vaguely remembered her father telling her about some historic match where this Fischer beat a Russian grand master. She also remembered her father trying to teach her to play chess but giving up when she showed no aptitude for it. Evidently it skipped a generation.

"And he doesn't like to paint your nails," the man went on. "He wants to hold your hand, but he can't process physical contact."

How on earth did he know that? It had taken her years to understand her son's dislike of being touched. This man had spent less than five minutes with him and had figured it out.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," he said with an expression on his face that told her the exact opposite was true. "But your son is a genius."

* * *

Walter was worried the woman was going to faint and was glad she was already sitting down. She didn't say anything. Probably had been told by so-called 'experts' Ralph was challenged, he'd never be normal, she would just have to accept he was going to a social outcast and never amount to anything.

His parents had been told the same things. But he'd proven them all wrong. And he knew Ralph would too. He glanced again at the boy, who was still gazing at him.

"Do you really have a 197 IQ?"

He heard the mother gasp at her son's question. With a smile, he said, "Yes. It's the fourth highest ever recorded."

"Cool."

"Ralph, can you tell me how fast is the speed of light?" He would be surprised if the boy didn't know.

"In kilometers or miles?"

"Both?"

"299,792 kilometers per second. 186,282 miles per second."

"Is he. . .is he right?"

He could barely hear her whispered words over the buzz of noise in the restaurant. "Yes."

"How would he even know that?"

"I imagine he read it somewhere. If his memory is eidetic, like mine, he'll remember everything he sees and hears."

"Oh my God." She hid her face in her hands for a moment. "I've never. . .never been able to connect with him like you just did."

"Hey, Paige." The perky blonde came bouncing up to their booth. "The five minutes are up." She looked over Walter appraisingly before glancing pointedly over her shoulder. Another man stood waiting, his hands in his pockets. He was tall, and blond, and exuded a muscle bound bully vibe Walter had encountered many times over the years.

Paige lifted her eyes to look at the other man, then shook her head. "I want. . . I need to talk to. . . Oh, I don't even know your name."

"Walter. Walter O'Brien."

"Hello, Walter. I'm Paige Dineen and this is my son, Ralph." She rumpled the boy's hair again. The blonde woman cleared her throat. "Oh, yeah, this is my friend, Linda. She's the coordinator of this. . .uh, speed dating. . ."

She turned to plead with the other woman. "Please, I really need to talk to Walter. Can't you bend the rules a little?"

Linda let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but you owe me one." She leaned in closer to Paige. "Way to hog the cutest guy here all for yourself. Call me tomorrow, okay?" With a wink, she flounced off to pacify the waiting jock, threading her arm through his. "Come on, Tim," she said as they walked away.

Walter's face grew hot and he ducked his head, not wanting to meet Paige's scrutiny. "Sorry about Linda," she said. "She's a little. . ." Paige shrugged her shoulders. "So what does a guy with a 197 IQ do for a living?"

"I have my own company," he replied. "We're government funded problem solvers."

"We?"

"The rest of my team. They're, uh, all geniuses too."

"A team of geniuses." She smiled at her son. "Did you hear that, Ralph?"

"Yeah."

Walter looked from mother to son. It was obvious they both needed help. Paige appeared to be working at least two jobs and even then was having trouble making ends meet. Ralph needed to be around people like him, people who understood him. Sneaking a peek at Paige again, he again saw something in her he couldn't name. Something that made him want to keep her. . .and her son in his life.

He didn't believe in claptrap like kismet or fate or any of that nonsense. But. . .he knew what he needed to do.

"Do you have a piece of paper?" he asked. He watched as she dug through her purse with a confused expression. She handed him a supermarket receipt.

"Is that okay?"

"Perfect." Taking his pen from his pocket, he wrote down the address of the garage, its phone number, his cell number, and although he would still need to clear it with Cabe, the salary and benefits she would receive if she joined Team Scorpion.

"I know this is going to sound w-weird," he said. "But I'd like to offer you a job." He slide the receipt back over to her.

She picked it up, read it, then touched her hand to her throat. "Are you sure? I'm not a genius. What would I even do?"

"Our work requires, uh, interaction with people. It's not our strength," he said. "You want to know how to connect with your son, I can translate him for you."

"That still doesn't explain what I would do."

"You can translate the world for us." He averted his eyes again. "I. . .I'm not good with women. P-People in general really. I don't w-what to say, to do. . . But you. . . I can talk to you. And you. . . Well, you're still talking to me. . ."

"Ralph, he doesn't usually talk to anyone but me."

"He recognizes one of his own." He lifted his head to face her again. "So, what do you say? Will you come work for me, for Scorpion?"

Paige stared at him, then down at the receipt, then at her son. "What do you think, Ralph? Should we do it."

The boy nodded, a huge smile on his face. "Yes."

Walter slid out of the booth then. "Uh, w-would you like to get out of here? T-There's a deli a couple blocks from here. Kovelski's. W-We could get something to eat. You and Ralph. If-If you want to. . ."

"I'd like that, Walter." Paige stood up, grabbing her purse. "Thank you."

Unsure of what to say, he held out his hand, intending to shake hers to seal their deal. But instead, she entwined her fingers with his, sending sensations he'd never experienced before to shoot through his body. Meeting her eyes, he could tell she felt it too.

He was more positive than ever he had done the right thing. Paige Dineen, and her son, were going to change his life. . .for the better. . .and forever.

 **FIN**


End file.
